


Of Liars and Havoc

by SmexyWatermelon



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Depression, F/M, Fluff, i literally just wanted some post-apocalyptic-mid-war-fluff, i love that egghead, whom is probably ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 06:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14038536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmexyWatermelon/pseuds/SmexyWatermelon
Summary: After the destruction of the Prydwen, Sole is struggling with herself. Luckily Deacon is around to pull her back together.





	Of Liars and Havoc

It was a miracle she had survived. Hell, it took them at least three miracles in a row just to get on board of the Prydwen.

It wasn’t a good plan – from the beginning to the end, it had just been a messy attempt to kill before being killed, of saving a family by condemning another.

She wasn’t proud, but she was alive.

She was still wearing the Brotherhood suit that had allowed her access to the decks – nobody saw that coming until it was too late.  
There was something delicious in the way the knights looked at her, when she opened a path back to the vertibird. They knew she had betrayed them. They finally got what was coming to them. She had relished in that sensation, at the time. But it clung to her so tightly now that it was threatening to suffocate her.

The smell of ozone and blood was still fresh in her mind. Long streaks and splatter of blood had coagulated into her suit, but she just couldn’t get herself to take it off.  
Everything felt so surreal – all her movements were slower than usual, her senses duller and aching.

It was like the first time John had convinced her to try some Jet, just so much worse. She could barely feel her fingers; charred corpses of paladins, scribes, researchers, children – they all kept flashing in front of her eyes whenever she dared close them.  
And to add to that, there seemingly was no coming down from this high.  
Her head felt heavy – ears whistling, vision blurring at times, far too often for her liking. Her hands had yet to stop shaking, making any kind of everyday action nearly impossible to perform.  
The blast of the nuclear engine had scorched her skin; fallout and ash still stained her face.  
Her finger pads traced lines along her cheek, brushing the dust off her face in long streaks. Dust that had been people not even a day prior.

She shoved the thought away, softly sighing in the silence of the basement of the umpteenth safe house they had visited. It had barely been a day and they had already walked around half of the Commonwealth. From her knees down, everything was just pulsing in pain, but she knew exactly why they couldn’t benefit from a rest.  
Too many Vertibirds detached before the final explosion. The threat of a revenge from the Brotherhood survivors still loomed on top of the Railroad and each and all of their members, especially the three people that had conceived and put into action the plan that had destroyed the Prydwen.  
They needed to sweep the houses quickly, hit fast and hard and deal with all the consequences later. It was a great plan, if only she could keep up with all of it.

A few more days, and the Institute would have received its long due visit.

She had wished for that day to come for so long, but now that it was close she wasn’t feeling determined- she was terrified.  
Resources, men, planning – all the tasks ended up falling on the three of them. There was little hope to fight such a colossus with the few men that had survived alone.

Sole had given orders to go fetch the power armors she had managed to repair and collect. Hidden and distributed to different settlements throughout the Commonwealth, they would have been easy to put in function. They weren’t that many, but it was a start, at least.

Nobody else would have hurt another one of her friends. That’s the beautiful naïve promise she kept making. That she kept breaking.  
Not this time, she told herself. This time will be different, because this time she’ll find the right way to save them all.  
But how could she keep such an oath when she was leading them towards the lair of the master puppeteer himself, buried deep at the roots of the C.I.T. building? People would have died on both sides; as heart-breaking as it was, it was the only truth that she knew. A necessary evil that seemed to put her and the Institute in correlation once again.

She didn’t want to ask other people to come with her. She knew far too well that Preston would have followed his General, Nick would have protected her till his death, Mac would have given his life for the one who saved his son.  
She didn’t want to deal with all that bull. Not again.  
She had come to accept the idea of dying far more easily than the one of being the cause of someone else’s demise again.  
But with her body giving up on her, she had little choice but to rely on Deacon…

She didn’t like it, and from what she could grasp, he wasn’t too fond of it either.  
Not because he didn’t want to be there for her, but… she realized how close they were. How uncomfortable that was for him.

She couldn’t help but relish in his discomfort. As selfish as that sounded, it only meant that he cared about her. Truly cared. It was good to know where he stood for once.

Even taking her medicine had become an impossible task: her hands simply shook too much. After spilling the umpteenth pill on the ground she simply gave up, discarding the small orange container on a table nearby.

The dark demon of depression loomed over her like a familiar shadow. She wasn’t sure the pills would have been able to pull it off, this time.

It had happened before, sure. But rarely it was this bad. She was trying to keep up with the others by keeping herself busy, by not thinking. But there’s just so much one’s body can take before starting to shut down.  
Everything felt duller in her vision; living in a place like the Commonwealth, it meant that everything was much more dangerous. Any kind of threat could have got so much closer without her realizing in time…

The mechanisms of the door buzzed open, and her hand was faster than any other thought-

“Woah! I-it’s me!” the gun rattled in her palm before she lowered it with a deep sigh. Deacon slowly lowered his palms as well. He opened his mouth to yell at Sole, but stopped mid-way through when he saw the look on her face.

“S-sorry.” Her voice broke before she could even begin pretending she wasn’t collapsing over herself.

She put the gun back in its holster and tried to relax her shoulders, taking in a deep breath.  
She didn’t even look at Deacon before turning towards her pip-boy and checking the status of the settlements, listing the results of what she had been working on. “The supply lines have been redirected to the dead drops. I don’t know for how long it will take for this system to be discovered by our enemies, but it should be enough for Dez and the boys to get back on their feet.” She quickly pressed a couple of buttons in succession, a new live feed buzzing into view in the small screen of the device.  
“We lost another safe house, but the Minutemen secured three more buildings near the coast. The Castle has still some room, in case somebody urgently requires help.”  
“Whisper-“ She ignored him, continuing.  
“Following Patriot’s information, our window of opportunity is-“ “Sole!”

“-approaching.” Her left arm lowered alongside her lean frame. “I’m sorry I almost shot you.”  
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” He snarkily remarked, and there’s that familiar irony in his voice that she had so deeply missed.

Gentle hands grabbed her shoulders from behind. “I know it’s a terrible question, but… are you alright?”  
She silently nodded, and it didn’t convince Deacon not even one bit. “I’ll be fine.”  
“You’re holding up better than most agents, Whisp.”  
She grimily laughed at that comment. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He _almost_ leant in, but stopped himself before doing something stupid. “Talk to me. I need you at your bestest for this.”  
There’s a sudden twitch in her arms. Like something that was just underneath her skin crawled back on the surface. She stilled herself, but the trembling in her hands was still there.

“I’m losing it. I feel like it’s coming back again.” He knew about her sickness. They had spent so much time traveling together that it was impossible for him not to notice it.  
“It will swallow me again and I won’t get out of it this time.” Warm tears are brushed away by her forearm, without having the chance to fall down her cheeks.  
His hands followed the curve of her arms, stopping at the height of her elbows. Slightly closer than he was before. “People are here for you. I’m here for you.” He breathes out, murmuring. “God, that sounded a lot less cheesy in my head.”

Silence was filling the room. He never liked it, especially not when it was between the two of them.

She inhaled deeply before finding the courage to speak again. “We killed a lot of people, Deacon.” She murmured. Her voice was low and hoarse. “ _A lot._ ”

His arms slid around her – circling around her chest until he grabbed his own wrist with his arm, keeping her close.

“What do you want me to say?”

“One of your lies? One of those that makes the world sound like there’s some sense, hidden somewhere in all of this madness?” She pressed back against his slightly larger frame, feeling warmth oozing from his clothes. “Or is it too much even for you?”  
She liked doing that- at times it was the only thing that made her realize Deacon was actually a person and not just a single facet of infinite masks.

“I won’t say those people deserved to die. Nobody could have ever deserved that.” His lips brushed against the skin on the back of her neck as he spoke. “But if we didn’t stand up now, when? If we don’t stop the Institute now, then who will?”

She chuckled. Small tears fell from her face on his arms. “I’m just so tired of this.”  
“It will be over soon; one way or another.”

Her lips quivered, but she pressed them together before speaking again.  
“I was sure we were dead.”  
“We aren’t.”

It didn’t sound reassuring. Now that she thought about it, it never had.  
Not for a single moment since she had left the vault had the Commonwealth resembled a place where life could thrive. It had been war all along. It probably would have been war till the end.

“Do you think it will ever stop?”  
“This? No.” His stubble covered cheek brushed against her skin as he shuffled. “But I’ll get you some nice holidays once we’re done here, boss. A stroll at the beach, some nice museum tours. And book club on every Friday, of course.”

A brief, silent chuckle vibrated in her chest.

She finally turned around to face him: his face was scorched, his glasses crooked, and there was something in his face that hinted he was having a mild mental breakdown as well.  
He smiled at her – tenderly and desperately showing he was as broken as she was. Maybe a little more.

Her hands slid on his shoulders, caressing the fabric and the lean tattered man beneath it.  
It’s been a hell of a long while since the two of them met each other. She would have never guessed it all would have come down to this.  
“I’m glad you were there with us.” It felt so good to finally hear some honesty in his words again, most of all because it wasn’t hidden in one of his terrible speeches about trust.  
Her eyes lowered on his chest. There’s a small smile on her lips. “You’re saying that as if I wasn’t the one to drag you all in this mess.”  
“We were headed towards this waay before you came knocking at our door.” Her watery eyes looked for his, behind the cracked lenses of his sunglasses.

“I’m glad you’re here for me.” A tear ran down her cheek and his hand snaked there, cupping her face, brushing the sadness away. His fingertips slowly sunk in between her locks, studying her face, closing the distance.

Their foreheads touched, noses brushed against each other’s. For a fleeting moment, he’s a person again. Not an agent, not a synth, not a liar. Just him, whoever the hell he is supposed to be.

His lips tasted like dust and smoke. It’s rough. And so damn welcome.

Calloused hands grabbed her cheeks and she’s pressed between the workbench and his body, and the world – for the tiniest, purest of moments – stopped spinning around her.  
He stole hungry kisses, until he couldn’t breathe anymore, until he couldn’t think anymore.

She smelt of blood and sweat, of war and revenge. He rested his head against the top of her shoulder, placing a last small kiss on her skin.  
His hands trailed to her hips, their body slowly stilling against each other’s. 

_This is such a mess._

“We have work to do.” He managed to mumble, pulling himself back from her embrace, back under his masks.  
Sole simply nodded in response. Just thinking about the Institute made her feel sick again.

“Me and Tom-“ He gestured towards the door, already taking a couple of steps away from her. “Well, when you’re finished, we’re upstairs. Ready when you are.”

Before he could go, Sole had already caught him in her arms.

Her voice was so faint he could barely hear it.

_Thank you, Dee._


End file.
